The Song of the Dark Forest
by Drizzt1138
Summary: Ser Tarmikos Warlockbane earned his name when he vanquished one of the warlocks of Qarth. As a reward, he was allowed to marry the most beautiful lady in Westeros. But trouble always finds those who are happiest. A legend taking place in the Age of Heroes. Rated T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

The Song of the Dark Forest

A Fanfic for "A Song of Ice and Fire"

Long, long ago, in the Age of Heroes, there was a knight known as Tarmikos Warlockbane. He had earned this name because he had slain one of the warlocks of Qarth, a deed previously unheard of in the lands of the First Men. For this, the king granted him the hand of the beautiful Lady Donyari Jenema, the fairest woman in all of Westeros. He graciously accepted, and promised to love her until the end of time. A promise he intended to keep.

It is said that Ser Warlockbane bore a black tree on a green field upon his banner, and a matching sigil on his surcoat and shield. It is said that Lady Jenema bore the sun in her eyes, and the earth in her hair. It is said that the man's blade was made from paradoxes, things we do not find in the world today: a dead man's heartbeat, a fool's reason, and the mercy of a wight. It is said that the woman was so kind and loving that she could make angels and demons cry. And it is said that their love was so great that men and women and even the Children of the Forest would often smile upon them and bring them gifts.

One unusually fine winter's day, there was a fair in the town where Tarmikos and Donyari lived. Traders had come from as far as the lands of Asshai to sell their wares, and those wares were plentiful and exotic to say the least. There were horses from the Dothraki Sea and Valyrian steel swords of the finest make. There were wines from the Arbor, and spices from Pentos. And so it was on this day that Ser Warlockbane donned his best surcoat, Lady Jenema put on her finest gown, and the couple left their home to go explore the marketplace.

When they got there, the place was teeming with people of all kinds. The air was full of piquant fragrances, the smells of myrrh and pepper and cloves and a million other spices swirling around them like a cloud. All around them there was the shine of gold and samite, silver and steel. Everywhere gold and wares were changing hands, so quickly that the concept of ownership was shown to mean very little. Yet at the same time, to those who were doing the trading, it seemed to mean quite a bit. Everywhere they looked, someone was after this or that item, haggling over prices, and if they were lucky eventually walking away with their new possessions.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, things somehow got even busier than they had been. The two lovers picked up a few items as they went through the marketplace, although they were careful not to spend too much. Tarmikos bought some spiced meats and potatoes, so that they could have a nice dinner that night. Donyari got some new clothes, shining skirts of red velvet and a blouse of white satin. Eventually, they decided to go home, satisfied with their acquisitions and fondly smiling at each other.

Alas, it was not meant to last. As the sun's rays began to grow orange and filter through the buildings as opposed to shining down on them from above, Ser Warlockbane began to sense a foul presence coming from behind him; a kind of itch, a raising of the hairs on the back of his neck. Slowly, he turned around, and saw that which he dreaded most. Standing there in the dying light was a warlock, tall and gaunt. His sickly veins showed through his pale skin, and his lips were a deep shade of purple from the disgusting potions that the warlocks of Qarth drank to enhance their powers.

Even as Tarmikos drew his sword, the warlock was upon him, though mere seconds ago the two had been several hundred feet apart. As the knight drew the blade his opponent drew his own, a knife whose metal shone with the color of pus and decay. Ser Warlockbane barely managed to block it from being driven into his chest. And thus the battle was joined.

All around the two, bystanders screamed and fled at the sight of bared steel, running to get away lest they be caught by a stray swing of the blade, but Donyari stayed, refusing to leave her husband. Each clash of the sword and dagger rang out among the buildings, echoing off walls and cobblestone streets. Soon there was a wide circle around the combatants, formed by the few who stayed to watch at a relatively safe distance. As they looked on, the blades continued to crash together with resounding fury.

Ser Warlockbane was obviously the stronger of the two. Magic users are not exactly known for their physical strength, whereas knights train with the sword and shield every day. However, being without the latter element, Tarmikos' fighting style was put a bit off-balance. That, combined with his opponent's magic, left the two on about level ground in terms of fighting strength.

The two circled each other, each trying to find a hole in the other's defenses, to wear the other down as much as possible. The light glinted off their blades, casting rays of light into the shadows that were quickly growing around the buildings that surrounded them. As their dance of steel continued, they moved closer and closer to Donyari. Suddenly the warlock knocked Tarmikos back, and she chose the moment to strike.

She lunged; pulling a dagger of her own that she had hidden in her dress. The dagger shined as it plunged down toward the warlock's neck- until suddenly his hand shot out and stopped it. He looked from the knight to the lady and back, a perverse smile growing across his face. "This is what you care about most, isn't it?" He said in an ugly, raspy voice, "This is how we hurt you." And just like that, he was gone. As she was, too, the love of his life was gone.

And he knew that he was going to get her back.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tarmikos Warlockbane stepped off the _Princeling's Gambit_ , the ship he had hired to take him across the Narrow Sea, and onto Valyrian soil. The captain had agreed to take him this far, but from here he had decided to ride the rest of the way to Qarth. The warmth in the world had quickly disappeared after Donyari had been taken, and now the whole world was absolutely frigid, even here in the Valyrian Freehold. The maesters of Oldtown said that the winters had been growing harsher these past few centuries, and some even speculated that they would soon become lethal to kings and peasants alike. Deserts were turning into frozen tundra, and the north was an absolute wasteland.

This was the backdrop upon which Ser Warlockbane reached Essos. The normally sun-scorched igneous rock the city of Valyria had been built upon was covered in frost, and the streets were empty of life. Yet they were not entirely devoid of sound; as he walked down the streets, he could hear the sound of blades clashing in the distance. Curious, he followed the sounds in order to investigate.

As he walked through the streets, the clanging grew louder and louder, and eventually he came upon a rather intriguing sight. In a wider street that would doubtless have been filled with people at any other time, there were four combatants crossing blades. Three of them appeared to be average brigands with leather armor and an assortment of swords and axes. They were remarkably and rather unfortunately common looking. The fourth, however, was in stark contrast to the others.

The first things he noticed were the large, double-bladed weapons that she wielded- glaives, for lack of a better term. They were curved and incredibly sharp, and glittered as they sliced through the air. She used them in a circular, dance-like pattern, twirling and spinning as she sent the blades hurling towards her foes. The second thing he noticed was her hair. It was long and dark, like her skin, and braided into a multitude of glittering strands. It took him a few seconds realize that they glittered because each one was tipped with a small, barbed blade that shone silver in the sunlight.

He looked on as they fought, entranced by the fluidity of her movements and the flashes of cold, reflected sunlight that accompanied them. She was incredibly fast, and though her opponents were able to block her glaives with no small amount of effort, the blades in her hair tore into their flesh, leaving bright red gashes in their skin. Eventually they yielded to the tempest, running away and leaving a trail of scarlet droplets behind them.

Apparently satisfied, the warrior put her weapons away. As she did, Tarmikos slowly approached, keeping relaxed but ready to draw his sword at any time. He was fairly certain she was friendly; she certainly looked to be so. Still, looks can be deceiving, so he proceeded cautiously, heralding his presence with a soft clearing of the throat.

She turned around and smiled in a genial manner, although her eyes studied him cautiously. "You're not going to try and rob me too, are you? Because as you can see, that probably won't end well for you."

He smiled back softly. "I had no plans to. I'm just passing through, on my way to Qarth."

She nodded, seeming rather satisfied with his answer, but still curious as well. "Why are you headed that way?"

His spirits fell noticeably. "I'm… looking for someone. That's all."

The woman was silent for a second, then extended her hand, smiling even more. "My name is Aedriyen. And I guess now I'm looking for someone too."

Tarmikos looked up again. "What?" He asked bluntly.

"I'm coming with you," She replied. "I don't really have much else to do. I'm the adventuring type, and this place is boring. Whatever you plan on doing, it must be more exciting than waiting around here."

"I- I don't want to be any trouble…" He said slowly.

"You won't be," Aedriyen said. "Trust me, it'll be fun. Traveling with a companion is always better than going it alone in my book." A few seconds after she said this, he extended his hand as well and they shook on it.

Shortly thereafter, they acquired some mounts and were on their way to Qarth.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The two got to know each other better as they rode. Tarmikos told her about his life back in Westeros, about his adventures abroad, and about how happy he had been with Donyari. It made him very sad to talk about her, so he didn't do so too often. And yet it also reminded him of his purpose and gave him strength to keep moving forward, so he talked about her as much as he dared.

As they moved north towards the Dothraki Sea, the subject of the warlocks of Qarth came up once or twice. "What exactly did you do to make them so angry?" Aedriyen asked one time.

"I killed one of them," Ser Warlockbane responded. "It would seem as though they decided to return the favor."

"You killed a warlock? That must be quite the tale. Care to share it?"

"I doubt you would really want to hear it. It's rather long."

The warrior gestured vaguely towards the rocky plains around them. There was nothing of note in sight, they had seen nothing of note for miles, and there was likely nothing to see ahead of them until they got to Qarth. "We have nothing but time. Go ahead, tell your story, friend."

The knight smiled lightly at having been called "friend" by such a formidable fighter. "Well, I suppose we do. Here it is.

"Several years back, I was serving my liege lord in the southern parts of Westeros. It was a dispute over land, and the person who already owned the land had no intention of giving it up peacefully. I did not necessarily agree with my lord's motivations, but I had sworn an oath to serve him, so serve him I did.

"Now the lord of that land we were marching for hadn't many knights or soldiers like mine, but he did have gold. Using that gold, he bought a variety of mercenaries to serve in his army. He was so rich, in fact, that he had even hired specialists from all across Essos. Unsullied and bravos, Faceless Men and warlocks…

"One night, we were in a rather dry part of the country, so we decided to stop by an oasis. My liege lord had called me to counsel him, and because of this I was there when he died. One of the Faceless Men had infiltrated the camp and put an arrow through his chest even as we spoke.

"Suddenly the enemy was upon us. I managed to take down the assassin, but even as I did the mercenaries attacked us from all sides. The fighting was brutal, but our line held somehow. Still, the opposing forces just seemed to keep on coming, a never-ending swarm of swords, spears and shields. Eventually I realized that the only way to cease it was by cutting the head off of the serpent.

"The leader of the enemy forces in that area was a warlock. To this day I don't know his name, but I will never forget his face. His skin was pale and veiny, with a sickly purple tint. His lips were colored in a similar manner, as are those of all the warlocks of Qarth. As we fought, he cast strange and powerful spells, shaking the ground beneath us and becoming ethereal just before my blade struck home on several occasions.

"There's no hiding how the story ends. I'm still here, and my surname tells of my deeds. After the battle with this particular warlock, we went on to avenge my liege lord. His heir took the area as his own, and the king knighted me and gave me my title, as well as Lady Donyari's hand in marriage. From the moment I saw her, I knew she was truly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I don't know if you believe in love at first sight, but… that was it. And thus one story ended, and another began."

Aedriyen listened patiently through the whole story. When he finished, she nodded slowly, and they both took a few moments to think over what he had said. After a while, Aedriyen smiled over at him warmly and reassuringly. "I promise you, we'll find her, Tarmikos."

* * *

They eventually reached the Dothraki Sea, and they were only one or two days in when the khalasar fell upon them.

They could hear the horses of the Dothraki from a mile away, and see the horse-lords from just as far. There were at least three hundred warriors in the group that was riding to meet them, and the hoof beats of their horses were like a constant thunder in the air.

"What should we do?" Tarmikos asked nervously. He was a good fighter, but not against a small army of cavalry like the one they were facing. Furthermore, there was nowhere to hide out in the open plains, and attempting to outrun mounted Dothraki was pure folly, plain and simple.

Aedriyen urged her horse into a trot. "We try and reason with them, I suppose."

Tarmikos followed her, his hands shaking slightly as he gripped the reins. Soon they met up with the riders of the khalasar, who quickly surrounded them. As they did, Aedriyen started calling out in the Dothraki tongue, urging their leader to come forth. And so she did.

"Who are you?" She asked, and Tarmikos was surprised to hear that she spoke in the Common Tongue of Westeros, a language that was uncommon among the Dothraki.

"My name is Aedriyen, and my companion is known as Tarmikos Warlockbane. What are you called, Khaleesi?"

"I am Khaleesi Dena," The Dothraki woman responded. "What are you doing in my territory?"

The two told her of their quest to get Tarmikos' wife back, making sure to be as concise as possible. She listened patiently, nodding when they finished. "I see. I, too, have taken issue with the warlocks of Qarth. You see, on their way to go kidnap your lover, they passed through my territory as well. However, knowing they would not need to pass through again, they stole some of our horses to speed their travel."

"So you'll allow us to pass, in order to get revenge on the warlocks?" Aedriyen asked.

The Khaleesi smiled with good humor. "I never said that… but yes. We will let you pass on the condition that if you find anything of value to us on your journey, you will come back and give it to me. Agreed?" The two nodded. "Good," she said, "You seem like an honorable pair. I will take you at your word."

And thus they were allowed to continue on their journey.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The two came upon the city of Qarth just as the sun was beginning to set, a few days after their encounter with the Khaleesi. They had been having a light-hearted discussion on the Dothraki language ("M'athchomaroon is quite a long way to say 'hello'," Tarmikos had observed), but upon seeing their destination, their mood became a bit more subdued. "Are you ready for this?" Aedriyen asked, seeing how much this sight seemed to bother her companion.

"Yes," Tarmikos replied softly, "Are you? You really don't need to come with me if you don't want to… Your skills are considerable, but this is still seeming more and more like a suicide mission no matter which way I look at it. I wouldn't blame you for turning back."

"There's no way I'm doing that," The warrior replied. "Besides, if it's such a dangerous mission, you'll need all the help you can get."

The knight considered this for a moment, then nodded and urged his horse onward towards the city.

The two of them made their way into the city just as the gates were closing up for the night. Then they waited a few hours, making sure that most of the city was asleep before making their move. Having done this, they headed for the citadel of the warlocks, leaving their horses behind and moving through the city as swiftly and silently as shadows.

Soon they came upon the citadel, and began to search for a side door to lead them inside. They found one in short order; it was a small door on the side of the building, and for some reason it was hanging ajar.

"This does not bode well," Tarmikos stated bluntly, drawing his sword. This was the last chance to go back, to go home peacefully, to avoid what was obviously a trap set up just for him.

He pushed the door open and walked inside, with Aedriyen close behind him.

Upon entering, they found a long room unlike any they had seen before. Large pillars with braziers around their bases held up the ceiling, which vaulted high above them. The flames in the braziers gave off a warm orange glow. But even more impressive was the throne at the end of the hall. It stood below a stained glass window bearing the device of a seven-pointed star. And it was made entirely of swords.

Even as the two looked on in wonder, the ceiling crashed in, and bits of rubble rained down upon them. Thankfully none if it was large enough to harm them; the force of whatever had caused the collapse had so completely destroyed it that there was nothing left larger than a coin. It had literally been smashed into the hole, snow fell, and moonlight shined through, overpowering the light of the braziers and giving a cold silver cast to the room that had previously been golden and warm.

Tarmikos looked above to see what had caused this, shield up and ready. But as soon as he saw what it was, he knew his shield would be of no use.

Above them, neck craning down from the newly created hole in the roof, was a gigantic, black and red dragon. The moonlight glinted harshly across its huge fangs and talons, which looked sharp enough to cut a diamond. Its wings were massive, and it seemed as though one flap off of them could create a full-blown storm. The knight backed away slowly as it opened its mouth and let out a fearsome roar that shook the very ground beneath them. As it did, he could see a red glow in the back of its throat, portending to the danger of its mighty fire breath.

He gathered his courage, prepared to fight the beast to the death in order to reach his loved one. However, just as he was about to charge towards it, Aedriyen moved in front of him. "You go on ahead and get Donyari," she said. "I'll handle this one." He looked at her in shock, but before he could even get words out she was running up towards the dragon, her glaives in her hands and looking as sharp as ever. "Make for the exit in the back!" She yelled, pointing to a wooden door at the end of the chamber, next to the throne.

Under different circumstances he would have argued for her safety. However, this time he judged that arguing would only put her in more danger, so instead he ran behind the pillars, towards the door Aedriyen had indicated. He stopped for one last look behind him, to see her twirling about, slashing at her opponent. With a prayer for both her safety and his own on his lips, he opened the door and ran through.

This time as he walked through the door, he found himself out in the night, with warm, fresh air all about him. But as he looked around, he realized he was not back in the city of Qarth. He was in the city where his liege lord had died.

As he looked around, Ser Warlockbane spotted two figures in the shadows. He started walking towards them to ask where he was, but as he got closer he recognized their faces. It was his old liege lord, standing with a younger version of Tarmikos himself. Before he could even react, the duplicate of himself drew his sword and rammed it through the noble. Blood began to run from the wound before the knight's unbelieving eyes. When he could not stand the sight any longer, he closed them, muttering to himself, _this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real_ , over and over again.

As he tried to calm himself, he felt the air stir slightly. Looking up, he saw nothing but the same terrible sight that had greeted him before, but as he closed his eyes again, the draft was still there. Cautiously, he took one step, and then another, walking in the general direction of the air current, sheathing his sword and holding his arms out in front of him to make sure he didn't bump into anything. Soon his outstretched hands came upon another door. He opened it without hesitation, walking through while drawing his sword.

This was where he finally found her. The room was dimly lit, and at the other end of it he could see her between the bars of the cage they had been keeping her in, sleeping on a bed of stone. Outside the bars stood the warlock that had stolen her away from him. "Quietly, now," He said in a mocking tone. "She's sleeping. We wouldn't want to wake her, now would we?"

The knight raised his sword in a challenge. "Who are you?" He said.

"Why does it matter?" Said the purple-lipped mage across from him.

"I would like to know your name before you die," Ser Warlockbane responded.

The magic-user sighed dramatically. "It will be you who dies here. But you might as well know, I am Pythos Maqee, a member of the council that governs my order."

By this time Lady Donyari had awoken. She said nothing, but her eyes silently pleaded with Tarmikos to free her. He nodded and saluted her with his sword, then lunged at his opponent with ferocious speed.

The warlock drew his foul dagger, blocking the knight's downward swing deftly and firmly. However, this did not dissuade the hero in the slightest. He had a quest to complete, and nothing would stop him now. This time he made to stab at his foe, and again the target blocked it, pushing the blade out to the side. But Ser Warlockbane had foreseen this, and he swung his shield inwards, smashing it into the warlock's face. This dazed the foul creature, thus giving Tarmikos the upper hand.

This advantage was not wasted. Moving swiftly and decisively, the hero swung his sword inward towards his target. The slash was blocked again by the dagger, but weakly this time. Putting more force on his blade, the knight pushed the knife from his opponent's hand, and at the same time used his shield to shove him up against the wall.

The warlock gave a feral snarl, and inhuman sound that barely resembled any noise an animal of this world would make. Chanting under his breath, the infernal monster began casting a spell, and suddenly flames were shooting out from his hands, flowing through the air towards the Tarmikos. The knight got his shield up just in time, although he could still feel the heat coming in waves from the other side of it. And still, he pressed onward.

As Ser Warlockbane moved forward, his quarry moved backward. He kept on driving the creature in this direction, until soon there was nothing behind him but solid wall. And still he moved onward, the heat getting more and more intense as he got closer and closer.

Then, suddenly, he leapt forward, his shield crashing into the warlock and disrupting the spell. The wretched thing fell onto its back with Tarmikos on top of him, sword to his throat. One word came out of the hero's mouth. "Yield."

The warlock gave no response. The knight drove the point of his sword up to the creature's throat, saying again, "Yield, and swear that you will never hunt my family or I ever again, or I will slay you here and now."

Reluctantly, with a look of pure rage in his face, Pythos nodded.

A few weeks later, Khaleesi Dena and her khalasar were raiding the Slaver's Bay Area, laying waste to the cities of Yunkai, Astapor and all the rest. They plundered and looted, and soon they had taken enough food to last them dozens of winters and freed enough slaves to create a whole second khalasar.

Aedriyen later found out that the dragon she had slain was merely an illusion created by the magical energies of the warlock's citadel, evidently some kind of premonition of a future hundreds- if not thousands- or years to come. However, somebody neglected to tell the commoners this. Soon the mercenary became known far and wide as the mightiest dragonslayer in the world, and made piles and piles of gold from all the contracts she signed with wealthy lords, prosperous merchants, and even kings and queens.

And finally, after Tarmikos freed his lady love from the clutches of the evil warlocks and ensured Aedriyen's safety, he and Donyari made their way back to the horses he had left near the city gates. From there, they rode back to Valyria, and took a ship back home to Westeros. Once they arrived back home, Ser Warlockbane decided to settle down with his wife. They had many wonderful children, quite a few of whom grew up to be adventurous knights like their father. And they all lived happily ever after, to the end of their days.


End file.
